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It doesn’t matter who you are-
How strong or weak, old or young, how much sleep you got in the hours leading up to it-
Putting on a show is fucking exhausting .
Especially when your idea of showmanship is throwing yourself and your instrument recklessly around the stage, falling to your knees and screaming at the top of your lungs in the heat of the moment.
Sure, it makes for a fuckin’ killer gig, but when your back is turned to the blinding stagelights and you’ve bid ‘goodnight’ to the hundreds, thousands of smiling faces in the crowd, the exhaustion hits all at once, like a semi-truck. Roiling through your body, leaving any after-show plans decimated as you seek the nearest vaguely comfortable looking surface to pass out on.
Somehow, even with years of touring and playing shows under his belt, Frank manages to forget about this phenomenon. After every single show.
He expects the adrenaline to last forever, to stay in that euphoric faux-high state all night and even into the next day, after-show jitters turning into pre-show ones. Obviously, this doesn’t happen.
In fact, he rarely makes it back to the bus without nearly collapsing and sleeping for the foreseeable future, much less to a hotel room.
And for some reason- Frank is convinced it’s because they’re the fuckin’ chosen one, god’s favorite or whatever- Gerard’s post-show adrenaline does last much longer than his own, than everyone else’s for that matter.
It makes sense, in a way. He’s the frontman, the main voice of the band, screaming the lyrics in perfect tune and putting it all out there for the sake of the show.
Some could argue that he’s whoring himself out on stage, just to hear the screams get louder with each lascivious moan and erotic gesture, every secret that slips from his overeager, oversharing mouth. That, or he’s somehow sticking it to ‘the man’ by being a flamboyant slut.
Frank disagrees.
He argues that sure, a part of Gerard does it for the fans, but mostly, it’s for himself- because he loves making a stupidly attractive fool of himself, being overtly sexual and slutty for the love of the game.
Frank is certainly not innocent himself when it comes to onstage sluttiness- thrusting against his guitar and practically humping Gerard on more than one occasion- but it just works, y’know?
Their stage chemistry is undeniable, melting into one another and feeding into each other’s shenanigans, Gerard pulling Frank’s hair when he kneels next to him, licking the other’s face and even kissing a few times. Frank tries to tell himself it’s for the sake of the show- it gets crazy reactions, and fuck , it feels good to do. Sue him.
The only downside is the next few business days he spends pushing down the fuzzy feelings that encapsulate him every time he so much as looks at Gerard, the most feather-light and casual touches giving him butterflies, like he’s a schoolgirl with a stupidly big crush. He might as well be at this point.
The point is, Gerard manages themself much better after a show than Frank could even dream of, helping him out when he inevitably crashes after every gig they play, making sure he gets him to some form of bed before he passes out or makes himself sick from exertion- the latter happening much more frequently than Frank would like to admit, his already miserable stomach problems amplified tenfold from how hard he goes.
Not that Gerard ever seems to mind, holding Frank’s hair back as he spills his guts, spending the night with him on the cold, dirty bathroom tile, holding him as he shakes through the agonizing pain in his intestines.
At the frequency it happens, Gerard always somehow seems a little too… eager to help, watching over Frank turns into more of just watching him- he’s looked up from the porcelain bowl to catch Gerard full-on staring at him more than once, eyes wide with an unreadable expression on his face, cheeks flushed for some reason, breathing harder than Frank is, when he’s the one getting sick. He chalks it up to them just being an empathetic friend.
Nonetheless, tonight is no different- minus the violent illness part.
The band bids the crowd a final goodbye and packs all their gear up, loading it into the bus. Frank’s energy lasts long enough to help out with the tedious parts, but everyone can tell he’s fading fast.
Once everything’s packed and ready to go, like clockwork, Frank crashes, lagging behind the others on the final walk back to the bus, stumbling like he’s drunk from sheer exhaustion.
Gerard, the kind and caring soul he is, is next to Frank in an instant, helping him navigate through the darkness that’s settled in the time between the show’s ending, and the time it took to load everything up, making sure he doesn’t trip over nothing and break a valuable part of his body.
They shuffle into the bus together- Ray and Mikey already in the driver and passenger seats (respectively of course, Mikey is a passenger princess), and Frank and Gerard in the back.
Frank slumps in his seat the second he sits down, already drifting off. Gerard clicks his seatbelt into place for him, gently scolding him on car safety- they’re not too cool to be safe on the road.
With everyone situated, Gerard excitedly announces that they’ll be staying in a hotel tonight- an occurrence that’s becoming less and less rare as their popularity rises and rises, the days of sleeping in cramped bunks growing more distant with every passing moment.
Everyone is obviously thrilled at this news, cheers echoing through the vehicle.
Through his exhaustion, Frank tries to sound enthusiastic too, but in all honestly, he couldn’t care less where they end up tonight. He would be perfectly content sleeping right here in the van, sitting up.
Gerard smiles sweetly at his attempt to express his joy with the band, a healthy mix of sympathy and pity on their face as he watches Frank yawn over and over, drifting off every few seconds, only to jolt awake again.
Because he’s god’s least favorite, his bone-deep exhaustion doesn’t guarantee satiating sleep. More often than not, his sleep is restless and fitful, leaving him agitated and more tired than before in the mornings. Nothing a concerning amount of spiked coffee and multiple bowls can’t fix.
Miraculously, he manages to doze off for the duration of the ride to the hotel, getting gently shaken awake when they arrive by Gerard, who looks guilty for even waking him up.
Frank reassures them that he’ll be able to get back to sleep soon enough. He also insists that he can carry his own shit to their room-
Since they’ve been staying in hotels, the rooming arrangements just sorta fell into place- Ray with Mikey, Frank with Gerard. Nobody complained, everyone was happy. All around a good deal.
Despite his insistence, Gerard carries his own and Frank’s bags of necessities for the night up to their room, Frank trailing behind in a half-awake daze.
The room itself is nothing to write home about- shitty curtains that did next to nothing to actually cover the windows, an AC that didn’t actually work, but hummed loud enough to convince everyone it did, and one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, with a table on either side. Somehow, only one side had a lamp. Not the biggest deal, just an odd choice.
Obviously, the conditions aren’t ideal for your average grown men sharing a room, the proximity being the main turnoff. But naturally, Gerard and Frank aren’t your average grown men, and the proximity is nothing new.
Both of them are incredibly touchy to begin with, always managing to be touching each other or their bandmates in some capacity. Physical affection is nothing new for any of them, and neither is sharing a bed- hell, even when they’ve got their own bunks, they’d end up in each other’s bunks more often than not, squeezing into the tiny space, the discomfort a small price to pay for a good cuddle sesh.
Most of the rooms they’ve managed to book have been single beds- they’re successful, sure, but certainly not made of money.
And it certainly helps that they don’t mind being so close. Frank definitely can’t complain when Gerard wraps their arms around him and pulls their bodies flush together, the shared warmth of the embrace soothing Frank into a peaceful rest.
Despite how tired he is, Frank drags himself to the bathroom for a shower. He refuses to sleep in his filth, covered in makeup and sweat and god knows what else from dragging himself across the stage floor.
The warm water only serves to tire him out more, but he scrubs himself as clean as he’ll get and changes into the pajamas he brought- a random ratty band tee he stole from Gerard and a simple pair of pajama pants.
When he emerges from the bathroom, refreshed but still hanging on by a thread, he spots Gerard getting ready for bed, showerless.
He grimaces. He loves the guy to death, and typically, his frankly frightening hygiene habits wouldn’t bother Frank, but when they’re sharing a bed, he just can’t do it.
He convinces Gerard to at least rinse off and change their clothes, which they agree to very begrudgingly, sulking into the bathroom almost comically.
Frank’s heart swells with adoration, the way it does anytime Gerard does anything- but particularly when he’s being ridiculous. It’s cute. And he’s given up on not letting his mind blur the line between platonic and romantic feelings for the man, it’s a losing battle anyways. He’s got it bad for Gerard, and everyone can tell but them. It’s almost laughable that Gerard, one of the most observant people Frank knows, can’t observe that Frank is totally into him. In reality, it’s more sad than it is funny.
Not that it matters right now, as Frank tucks himself under the blankets- his body relaxing against the mattress, head hitting the pillow. The instant relief is almost orgasmic, and he sinks into the bed like he would when he’d smoke too much as a teen with a low tolerance.
He gets no time to mourn how his drug of choice used to make him feel, as within seconds of settling down, he’s fading in and out of sleep. He lets it take over, mind going blank as he finally passes out.
When he wakes again, it’s not because it’s morning, or because he wants to, or anything of the sort. He’s not even entirely sure why he’s awake, but… something’s off. He just can’t tell what that something is yet.
The room is dark. He squints out the window, finding an equally dark sky. It must be pretty late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. No time for semantics. Something’s wrong.
The light is off, obviously, accounting for the darkness of the room. Gerard must’ve turned the lamp off when they went to bed. As Frank looks over to the man sleeping next to him, he notes that, obviously, Gerard must’ve crawled into bed next to him after their shower and fallen asleep too.
When his eyes fully adjust to the darkness, he glances at Gerard’s face, expecting to see a peaceful expression, but what he’s met with is just as odd as whatever has him wide awake this late.
Instead of their usual, relaxed, cute sleeping face, Gerard somehow looks… stressed. His eyebrows are knit together, eyes squeezed shut tighter than they need to be, and his lips curled into a distressed frown, parting every so often to let out a soft little sigh.
That’s weird.
The discomfort that Gerard is clearly in reminds Frank of his own discomfort that shook him awake. He snaps back to reality and stops staring at his sleeping friend’s face, focusing back on the matter at hand. Something is wrong, and he needs to find out what it is.
As all of his senses come back to him, the realization hits.
The first thing he notices is the warmth. Something warm creeping up beneath him- wet too, he quickly realizes. Very wet, pooling in the mattress where it dips beneath his and Gerard’s weight, soaking into the sheets. It spreads faster than Frank can think to move away, seeping into the leg of his pants.
The second, consecutive thing he notices is the smell. As the liquid appears, so does the acrid scent of urine, filling the air.
Holy shit. Gerard is pissing himself.
Everything suddenly clicks- Gerard’s discomfort, the hushed sounds they’re making, it’s all stemming from the fact they’re wetting the bed.
He’s wetting the fucking bed. The bed they’re sharing.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Frank will be the first to admit that he’s a bit of a freak.
Well, that’s an understatement. Some of the things he’s into would make the average person gag.
One of those things, coincidentally, is piss. He’s always been distantly aware of this fascination, never experimenting with it from a fear of it being too gross, too taboo for any relationship he’s been in, or hookup he’s had.
He can’t explain it. If he tries, he’ll only sound weirder and grosser. So he’s never tried to rationalize it, either, just accepted that he’s nasty.
So naturally, his reaction isn’t exactly the normal, or ideal, or responsible one.
Instead of being disgusted when he feels Gerard’s urine soaking into his pajamas, or at the strong smell of piss that’s violating the air around them, he’s insanely turned on by it.
Within seconds, he’s fully hard, without even touching himself. He feels a bit dizzy from how fast the blood rushes from his head to his cock, filling it out in record time.
Can you blame him? One of his biggest fantasies is playing out right in front of him, fully naturally, and it happens to be coming from his best fucking friend, of whom he has an embarrassingly huge crush on. And it’s wet and warm and so close to his dick, and fuck he wishes Gerard would do that on his lap.
So god forbid he palms himself as he watches Gerard’s sleeping form, blissfully unaware of what’s happening. For some sick, perverted reason, Gerard’s ignorance to the situation only turns him on more, the feeling of being such a sick freak makes Frank’s dick throb beneath his touch.
He really, really considers not even waking Gerard up, just so he can jerk off to him and his accident. But as he continues to rub at the tent in his pants, the part of his brain screaming at him that this is wrong and he needs to wake Gerard up is much louder than the parts urging him to touch himself.
He allows himself a final, quick squeeze of his erection, then withdraws his hand.
This is the hard part. Waking Gerard up, that is.
He psychs himself up for how Gerard will react. It’s not like they’re a stranger to arguably gross things, they’ve surely been in more compromising situations than this one. And despite their often erratic behavior, he’s sure they’ll react as reasonably as one would to being made aware they’ve pissed the bed as an adult.
With his worries somewhat quelled, he decides that the sooner, the better. It would just be cruel to wait until Gerard’s finished wetting the bed to let them know it even happened.
This line of thinking, meant to deter Frank from being crazily horny about this whole thing, shakes his resolve for just a moment as he remembers that Gerard is still going , still wetting himself. His dick twitches at the thought of Gerard still having to go when he wakes up, despite the copious amounts of liquid already soaking into the bed. His bladder must’ve been so full .
Frank nearly groans, his brain entirely unhelpful in helping him stay normal. He pries his mind from the gutter and takes a steadying breath.
Now or never.
The ‘or never’ part makes Frank pause again for a moment, briefly considering not waking Gerard and pretending he slept through it too, avoiding any and all responsibility in the situation.
While it would be an easier approach, it would completely erase the sliver of potential there is that maybe Gerard is into this too, maybe they have a shared interest in the taboo. Frank doesn’t mean to get his hopes up, but he can’t help it. The thought of what could happen is far too present in his mind to let this opportunity just slip by.
With the most caution he’s ever touched Gerard with, he places a careful hand on their shoulder, gently shaking them awake.
Gerard's face scrunches up more than before, making adorably sleepy sounds as he stirs.
Frank decides he should bite the bullet and get the man up as soon as he can, as damage control of sorts.
He leans in closer, close enough he knows Gerard will hear him. “Gee, Gee wake up.” He half whispers, counterproductive when the goal is getting him awake.
Gerard opens his eyes, blinking groggily at Frank. “‘M up, wha’s goin on?” He slurs, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
Frank chews at his bottom lip. This is gonna either be really good for both of them, or really fucking heartbreaking. He glances away, then back at Gerard.
“Uhm. Okay, so. Please don’t freak out. Like, of all the things you should do, freaking out is the last one. I would recommend staying super calm actually. Got it?”
Gerard squints, still only half awake. “‘The fuck are you saying, man? What’s happening?”
“Just- promise you can be chill?”
Gerard sighs frustratedly, thoroughly confused. “What are you- yeah, man. I can be chill. You know me, I’m super chill. Just- tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”
Frank sighs too, relaxing slightly at the reassurance that no freakouts will be had.
“Okay. Okay cool. Great. Uh. So you, uhm, I-I think you- or, well- I know you, ah… you pissed the bed, man.” He manages to stutter out, watching Gerard’s face as they process the disaster of a sentence he just choked out.
As their expression shifts, presumably going through every stage of grief, Frank continues to reassure him.
“Again- please don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal, we can change the sheets and shower again, just thought it would be, y’know the right thing to do. Letting you know, I mean.”
Gerard just stares, unblinking as he decodes the garbled message Frank is trying to get across.
When it clicks, their eyes go wide.
He reaches under the blankets, presumably feeling the spot beneath them and between their legs, all the color draining from their already pale face as they’re met with wetness.
In seconds, they’re springing up from the bed, pulling the blankets off and bunching them up, rambling out senseless apologies and self deprecation.
When they stand up, Frank finally gets a proper look at their choice of nightclothes- a similarly ratty t-shirt to his own, and a pair of tiny camo shorts. Even in the darkness, Frank can tell they’re utterly soaked . He swallows hard, feeling his still very hard dick leak into his boxers at the sight.
“Holy- holy fuck. Ohh my fucking god. This- I-I’m so fuckin sorry, Frankie. This hasn’t happened in years. And it- it never happened sober , I mean- just- fuck . This is fuckin humiliating , and I can’t even imagine how gross it was for you. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up either, ‘m sorry you had to wake me up. I’m so fuckin gross, I don’t- I don’t even know what to say-”
They’re pacing now, pulling at their hair and hitting themself on the head, the way they do when they’re particularly distressed.
It makes Frank’s fragile heart ache. It hurts seeing him behave this way, hearing him talk about himself like that. He wants to just wrap his arms around the poor guy and make everything better. But that would be a death sentence if he tried that right now, so he goes for a verbal approach to comforting Gerard.
“Dude- dude, it’s- jesus, stop hitting yourself! Like I said, it’s not a big deal- just- let’s be reasonable-” he tries, a very pitiful attempt on his end, as it just makes things worse.
Gerard’s neck snaps concerningly with the speed he turns to look at Frank, distress turning to anger.
“Not a big deal? Not a big fucking deal? That’s really fuckin easy for you to say, Iero!” Gerard spits.
Frank cringes at being reduced to his last name. Gerard only does that when he’s teasing Frank, or when he’s genuinely upset. And he’s definitely not teasing.
“You’re not the one who fucking pissed himself as a grown ass man, with another grown ass man in the bed! So if we’re being ‘reasonable’, then I think you don’t get a fucking say in how I react. I can flip out all I fuckin want, you don’t get to tell me it’s not a big deal. It IS a big deal to me, it’s fucking pathetic and disgusting and why are you still just sitting there?”
Gerard is almost shouting, exasperated and stressed beyond belief, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes.
Frank just stares dumbly.
“Uh,” he replies, very articulately.
Gerard stares back expectantly, growing more frantic by the second.
Shit. Frank should really say something.
“It’s-” he starts, Gerard quickly cutting him off.
“If you say it’s not a big deal one more time, I’m actually gonna hurt you. Or myself. Whichever happens first.” He deadpans.
Okay. Fuck. He has to choose his words very carefully.
Either he lies and comes up with some random bullshit reason he isn’t freaking out the same way Gerard is- which Gerard will instantly clock, he has a sixth sense for knowing when Frank is being dishonest- or he tells the truth, which will either make Gerard more upset, or serve to humiliate Frank instead.
He weighs the options. Obviously, lying will only make Gerard angrier and make Frank look like more of a dick. But admitting that he’s getting off on Gerard unconsciously pissing himself probably won’t make them the happiest camper either.
As the gears turn in his head, he remembers that he really isn’t in a place to be taking so long to reply, when Gerard’s emotions are already so volatile. The earlier threat of harm, paired with Gerard’s frankly terrifying gaze makes him shudder. Fuck. He has to say something, now .
He chooses the safer option- the truth. Better to risk humiliating himself than flat out lie. He knows Gerard is very sex positive, and maybe a little too open about his own kinks and fantasies- so maybe this won’t piss him off too much, even if Frank’s deviant sexual gratification is at his expense. Maybe he’s into that.
“It’s because I think it’s really fucking hot that you pissed yourself.” He blurts out, cringing at the words the second they leave him. Maybe he shouldn't've been so blunt.
Gerard gapes at him, all anger vanished and replaced with disbelief. Frank takes that as a sign to keep going.
“I don’t- I know that this is really embarrassing for you, but I promise that if anyone’s the gross one here, it’s me. I shouldn’t have even let it go on that long, shoulda woken you up right when I noticed- but I didn’t. Cause it- fuck , it turned me on so much, watching and feeling it happen. Fuck. I know that’s really fucked up and you’re very very allowed to get mad at me for that, but please, just don’t be mad at yourself. Shit happens.”
The words spill out of him like acid, burning his tongue with each admission of guilt, but he can’t stop- not until he’s incriminated himself enough that Gerard’s accident doesn’t even matter compared to how gross Frank was about it. He’ll happily take the burden of being a fucking creep over seeing Gerard spiral about an unfortunate bodily function.
He expects a barrage of insults, or rightful anger directed at him, or even the earlier threat of harm to come true, any sort of rational response to what he just admitted to-
But it doesn’t come.
Frank opens his eyes- not even sure when he’d closed them- to see Gerard just. Staring. Wordlessly. With that same unreadable expression he gets when Frank is sick.
Then, they finally speak.
“Are you being serious?”
Frank could cry. “Yes! Yes, fuck- I’m being so serious. As fucking cancer, dude.”
Gerard glances away, unsure. “You’re not fucking with me? Not just saying that to make it better?”
Frank is bewildered. Gerard doesn’t believe him. He has to keep convincing them.
“Why would I- just- fuck, okay. I- I took so long to wake you up cause I was genuinely considering jerking off to you. It was so hard to convince myself not to, shit, I still want to now. Still so hard.”
Gerard sputters at that, looking like he’s been shot when Frank admits to nearly touching himself. “I- I just- I’m. What??”
Frank keeps talking. He can’t stop now.
“Yeah, fuck- so fuckin hard for you. I know its fucked. But… shit , I can’t even think straight now. Y’look so fuckin hot with your shorts all wet, ‘s makin my head spin.”
Gerard just stares incredulously, disbelief fading away slowly, but still present.
Frank realizes that in the darkness, in the position he’s in, Gerard can’t see that he’s hard. That’s probably making his words more difficult to believe. He gets an idea on how to really convince them.
“Can- can you turn on the light? Wanna, fuck , wanna see you properly.”
Gerard stays frozen still, visibly hesitant.
“Please?” Frank adds, letting the desperation he’s feeling seep into his voice.
That seems to do it, as Gerard reluctantly stalks over to the bedside table, obliging and turning the knob on the lamp until dim light floods the room.
And fuck, it’s exactly what he’d hoped- he can clearly see just how soaked Gerard’s shorts are now, a full shade darker than they should be. It got on his shirt too, the edges similarly darkened with piss. His hair is wild, from a combination of sleeping on it and frantically yanking it during his freakout. Most importantly, his face is flushed a dark red, pupils blown in a way Frank hadn’t been able to see in the darkness.
Fuck. It’s perfect. He lets Gerard know as much.
“Holy fuck. Yeah, that’s better. Fuckin’ perfect.”
“Perfect?” Gerard parrots, voice soft.
Frank grins. “Yeah. All of this. You.”
Gerard’s face flushes a deeper red, the blush spreading down his neck. “M-Me?”
“‘Course. You’re the reason ‘m so hard, y’know. Thought I made that clear.”
“I thought it was the-”
Frank almost giggles, refraining so Gerard doesn’t think he’s laughing at them. “Yeah, the piss part is hot, but the fact it’s you makes it so much fuckin’ hotter. Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
Gerard is silent for a moment. Then, “You mean it?”
Frank can’t help but chuckle at that. “Why would I lie about that? Like I said, you got me so hot and bothered, Gee.”
Gerard still seems reluctant to accept that as the truth, shifting their weight awkwardly, fiddling with the (wet) hem of their shirt.
That won’t do. “You seriously don’t believe me? Still? What do I need to do to…” He trails off, realizing exactly what he has to do to prove his arousal.
Here goes nothing.
Frank unfurls himself from the rather odd position he was in- in his defense, it’s very difficult to subtly hide an erection from someone who also has a dick, they know all the telltale moves already- and slowly spreads his legs, revealing his still very hard dick, the thin pajama pants doing little to actually conceal the tent. He’s honestly a little shocked his dick hasn’t flagged in the slightest, still steadily leaking precum, so hard it hurts.
“There we go. Believe me now?”
Gerard gulps audibly, giving a jerky nod in response.
Frank’s gaze flicks back down to Gerard’s wet shorts, then to the very large wet spot on the bed, and back to Gerard’s damp crotch, letting his eyes slowly trail up to their face, taking in every inch of their trembling, awkward form.
His dick twitches visibly in his pants as he soaks in the soaked fabrics, and Gerard’s less confused, but still shocked expression. He bites back a groan.
“Fuck, Gee. Look way too fuckin hot like that, all- all fuckin soaked n ruined , no denying what happened- I mean, look at the bed. Jesus.” He rambles, hands locked into a death grip on his thighs to protect himself from his notoriously wandering fingers.
Gerard whines at that, instantly slapping a hand over his mouth, mortified at the noise.
But his very unconventional method of dirty talk is clearly having an effect on Gerard, their tiny shorts obviously tented, the wet material clinging to them and giving a very nice outline of their cock.
So clearly, Frank has to keep going.
“Was so hot when I figured it out, that you were wetting the bed. Could feel it under me, so fuckin warm and wet - the smell too, no way to hide what was happening. Felt it touch me, and I wanted that feeling to be on loop for the rest of my fuckin life- preferably a lot closer to my dick, though. Speakin of- you didn’t finish, did you?”
He interrupts his ramble with a question, looking expectantly at Gerard, who flinches when addressed. A very simple question, but it’s making him sweat.
Frank almost feels bad for him.
Almost.
“C’mon, bud. Yes or no question. Real easy to answer. You still gotta go?”
Gerard whines again, louder, needier this time. He can’t bring himself to answer verbally, so he nods.
Frank shakes his head. “Gonna need words, dude.”
Gerard’s eyes widen, he looks like he could cry. Still, he chokes out a soft “Yes…”
A devilish smile creeps onto Frank’s face. “Hmm, good try! But that’s not the answer I need anymore. If you’d said that when I asked, it woulda sufficed. But now? Now ‘m gonna need a full sentence from you, man.”
Gerard looks distraught.
It makes Frank’s dick twitch again, the thrill of his newfound power over the trembling man. He’s not sure when they’d fallen into these roles, but it happened so naturally that he won’t dwell on it.
“Only gonna ask one more time. Do you still need to pee?”
Gerard is quick to answer this time. “Yes! Yes, I-I do..” he practically cries out.
Frank tilts his head to the side, expectant. “You what?”
Gerard whimpers, face flushing impossibly darker as he squirms, clearly embarrassed. “I- I still, ah , still n-need to pee…”
Frank beams proudly, getting the urge to ruffle Gerard’s hair. If only they were closer.
“There you go! Good job, buddy.”
Gerard smiles weakly at the praise.
“And that’s perfect, exactly what I wanted to hear.” Frank finally, finally lets his hand wander to his lap, slowly, but very obviously palming his hardness.
Gerard lets out a tiny gasp at the bold move, far too terrified to replicate it, but their own dick jumps cutely at the sight.
Frank tosses his head back and groans, rubbing himself with more intent, the long-awaited friction delicious and exactly what he needs. He can’t keep his mouth shut, rattling off again.
“Wanna- fffuck, ah , pull you into my lap, hold you in place while you squirm. Press on your lil bladder ‘til you can’t hold it anymore, empty what’s left of your piss all over me, feel it spurting out against my dick-”
Gerard cuts him off with a desperate moan.
Frank looks back at them to find that they can’t stay still- wringing their hands in their shirt, rubbing his thighs together and damn-near whining. Completely untouched, falling apart just from Frank’s words.
“Please- oh my god, Frankie .” He sighs out, looking mortified at the effect Frank is having on him.
“Yeah?” Frank replies, just as breathless. “You want that?”
Gerard practically sobs. “So bad, Frank, so fucking bad, please -”
Holy shit. He’s never seen Gerard act like this- so submissive and pliable and needy , begging without even being told to.
In all honesty, he’d somewhat expected Gerard to be at least a little dominant, but this is much preferable. It’s really doing it for Frank, seeing his big, bad frontman reduced to a whining, shaking mess by some vulgar words.
How can he deny the poor guy when they’re asking to be humiliated? That would be an impossible and frankly cruel feat, especially when Frank needs it just as bad.
So instead of saying any of the combinations of words that could spill from his mouth, he just scoots himself closer to the edge of the bed, and pats his lap, the command both nonverbal and perfectly communicated.
Gerard nearly trips over themself in their eagerness, stumbling over to Frank and crawling into his lap, straddling him and holding him close, like he’ll slip away or change his mind if they don’t grip him tight enough.
His perfect, plush thighs wrap around Frank’s torso, surprisingly strong- there must be some serious muscle hidden beneath the layer of beautiful thickness. In this position, their eager cock is pressed right up against Frank’s stomach, twitching adorably. His own cock is trapped under Gerard’s ass- which he is far from upset about. With this newfound closeness, Frank can feel how damp Gerard’s shorts are, the soaked fabric long since cooled from the chill in the room, slowly but surely drying.
A shiver runs down Frank’s spine at that thought, at the fact they won’t stay dry for long.
The second they’ve settled into their closeness, Gerard is already trying (and failing) to subtly rock against Frank, the barely-there friction making them shiver, hips jerking with the effort it takes to hold themself back from just fully humping the smaller man.
Their obvious desperation is driving Frank crazy, but that doesn’t stop him from teasing them about it.
“Aww, someone’s needy, huh? All worked up just from me talkin?”
Gerard nods, squeezing their eyes shut. “So needy, so needy - jus’ for you, Frankie- fuck. So hard t’ control myself, can’t stay still-”
“Who said you had to control yourself? C’mon, Gee, grind on me like you mean it, like you need it.”
Gerard whines, instantly grinding against Frank wholeheartedly the second they’re given permission. With every thrust of their hips, their ass rubs against Frank’s cock, making him ball his fists into their shirt, fighting a groan. “I do need it, nnh , need you…”
Holy fuck, Gerard’s gonna be the death of him. If he dies and goes to hell from hearing Gerard’s breathy declaration of needing him, that would be exactly how he wants to go. Plaster it on his headstone, make his eulogy ‘Frank Iero- died doing what he loved, getting humped by his best friend’. Let the world know he went out with a bang.
Frank stays relatively still, letting Gerard use him for friction- not for a lack of wanting to dryhump them like a desperate teen, but because he knows he’ll get carried away, and he intends to make good on his goal of quite literally getting his dick wet.
Gerard, through their frantic humping, notices this lack of movement and slows, pulling back slightly, but never stopping, like they’ll die if they aren’t getting some form of pressure on their cock.
“You- you’re not, mmh , doin’ it with me…? Why not?” they ask, lips curling into a little frown.
Frank’s heart and dick throb in unison at the way they pout.
“I want to-” he reassures, allowing himself one hearty thrust against Gerard’s ass to really punctuate his words, the movement nearly throwing them off balance. “I really, really fuckin’ do, promise. It’s taking everything in me to not pin you down and grind against your perfect ass.”
“Then why- ah , why don’t you?”
“If you recall, there was a more prominent goal in mind with getting you in my lap, ‘member?”
Gerard’s face reddens, cock twitching at the reminder. “I- yeah, yeah you’re- you’re right. I do recall.”
Frank smiles. “Yeah?”
Gerard nods in reply, too embarrassed to say anything else.
Frank lets it slide. For now.
“Mmm. Perfect. Whaddya say we get to that then, huh? ‘Fore you get too excited.”
Gerard whimpers at the implication, squirming. “ Frank ! ‘M not gonna-” they try, clearly not believing their own words.
Frank tilts his head curiously. “You sure? ‘Cause I can feel that you’re gettin close already, twitchin like crazy. ‘N I’m not letting you cum ‘til you’ve finished pissing yourself for me, got it?”
Gerard fully moans at that, hips bucking wildly. “Fuck-! Frankie, Frankie- so mean -”
“Damn right I am. Doesn’t seem to bother you all that bad, though.”
Gerard doesn’t argue, simply biting his lip and letting his hips slow to a reluctant stop.
Great. Now they can really start.
Frank snakes a hand from behind their back all the way to their abdomen, reaching just far enough under his waistband to rub at the organ that lays beneath the flesh there, purposefully avoiding their neglected dick.
He nearly gasps when his fingertips make contact, finding that their bladder is distended ever so slightly. He really wasn’t finished.
“Fuck- you really do still gotta go pretty bad, huh?”
Gerard nods.
Frank clicks his tongue. “Thought we went over this, Gee. When I ask if you need to pee, your answer should follow the form of telling me that yes, you do have to go .” His voice is stern, with more bite than he intends.
It does the job, though, as Gerard gasps, unable to keep his hips from jerking at that.
Cute.
“Ah- ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry-! Y-yes, yes- I have to go so bad still, ah , ‘m sorry-”
Frank rubs a soothing hand over Gerard’s back- the one not currently pressing against their tummy. “Shhh, ‘s alright bud, you made up for it, yeah? So well behaved for me.”
Gerard sniffles, blinking slowly at Frank, batting their long eyelashes.
They look so pretty, like they could start crying if Frank breathed wrong. They’d look prettier with tears streaming down their face.
Frank is certain that he wouldn’t be able to handle Gerard pissing himself and crying about it- he’d either actually pass away, or cum in his pants. Either is not ideal, so he’ll hold off on making them cry this time.
That doesn’t mean he can’t be cruel, though.
Picking his earlier ministrations back up, he presses his fingers into the swollen organ- not hard enough to hurt or make Gerard lose control yet , but enough to make their breath hitch.
They stiffen at the sensation, eyes going from lidded to wide. “Frank-!”
He looks up at them, grinning. “Hmm?”
“I can’t- won’t be able to, mmh , hold it if you do that…” They whine, as if that’s not the goal.
Frank plays along. “Oh, is that so?”
“Mhm..”
“That’s very interesting, Gee!” He muses, condescension dripping from his voice. He doubles his efforts, pressing harder this time, feeling Gerard’s muscles spasm at the intrusion. “Unfortunately, I don’t give a fuck. You’re gonna piss yourself, whether you like it or not.”
The calculated cruelty has its intended effect, making Gerard moan- well, the combination of the very violating sensation of Frank’s fingers jabbing against his bladder and his harsh words make for a delectable reaction, back arching ever so slightly.
Frank pushes even harder, digging his fingers in as rough as he can, his digits pressing into his bladder, instead of against it.
If Gerard wasn’t squirming before, which they were, then they definitely are now. Their body thrashes slightly, trying to back away from Frank’s touch even just a bit, to lighten the pressure on their abdomen- but Frank holds them in place expertly, the hand on his back becoming an anchor of sorts, keeping him trapped and completely at Frank’s mercy.
The longer Frank digs into his bladder, the more Gerard’s control slips away, growing more frantic and desperate by the second.
They look a mess , squirming helplessly in Frank’s grasp, their hips moving without permission and making things worse, as every movement presses them further onto Frank’s fingers. Their soft whimpers quickly grow louder, frantic gasps and moans, senseless pleas for nothing in particular, thighs squeezing tight around Frank as their eyes squeeze shut.
Frank watches in complete awe, hypnotized by how shameless they are about their desperation- not that he’d be any more subtle in their position, he’s making this as hard as possible for them on purpose, after all. He gives another hard push, the hardest so far, and Gerard goes completely still- their eyes fly open, wide and distressed.
Suddenly, Frank’s lap grows a little bit more wet. He feels a spurt of urine leak out of Gerard’s cock and re-wet his shorts, seeping into Frank’s shirt as well, accompanied with an audible hiss.
Holy shit. Gerard’s leaking . In his lap. On his dick.
The leak stops almost as soon as it starts, far sooner than Frank had hoped, but the damage is still done- he can feel the wet spot the leak left.
He pulls away from Gerard ever so slightly, just enough to see the dark patch, and fuck , does it make him throb.
He looks back to Gerard, who looks mortified, a hand cupped over his mouth in shock at his body failing him, even just for a split second.
Frank speaks before Gerard gets the chance to apologize, like he can tell they’re about to.
“Fuck, that’s more like it. Just like that.” He moans, making sure Gerard knows just how much he likes it- as if his throbbing erection doesn’t make that clear enough.
“Can you- think you can let go on your own? Need me to make you?”
Gerard’s eyes roll back slightly, eyelids fluttering with the motion. “Make me? Please?”
Frank rolls his hips, needing some form of pressure to remind him he’s not dreaming. Gerard really is this perfect and malleable for him. “Yeah- yeah, I can do that, fuck.”
He repositions his hands- both now resting on Gerard’s hips, and places both thumbs over Gerard’s swollen bladder for maximum efficiency, and because he loves how small it makes Gerard look, held so easily in both his hands.
He looks up at Gerard once more, a big smile on his face. “You ready, baby ?”
Gerard shudders at the nickname, nodding eagerly. “ Please , Frankie, can’t hold it much longer…” The last part is a whisper, meant only for him and Frank, like he’s ashamed .
Frank gives his own shiver at that, an embarrassing amount of precum leaking into his boxers at the admission- not that it’ll matter in a second, everything will be too wet to even tell what caused it. But he’ll know. Gerard will know.
With complete consent established, Frank gives it his all.
He presses both thumbs into Gerard’s bladder as hard as he can, digging into the organ and feeling the muscles around it flex, the organ itself twitching as it struggles to keep everything inside.
Gerard cries out, squirming frantically, trying to fight the inevitable.
“Frank-! Frankie, Frankie, I can’t- holy fuck, holy fuck I can’t- not gonna be able to hold it, ohhh my god , oh my god -! I can’t, I can’t- Frank , oh my god, holy shit - I can’t hold it, Frankie, ‘m gonna piss myself, fuck -!”
Frank groans at how fucking broken Gerard sounds, letting his own vulgar thoughts manifest into obscene encouragements.
“Yeah? Yeah, gonna wet yourself for me? All over my fuckin lap? Can’t believe you still have to pee, I mean, you saw that huge fuckin puddle you left in the bed earlier. Just gonna make it bigger, huh? Gonna let it all out, just cause I asked you?”
Gerard moans loudly, his movements growing more jerky and uncoordinated as the string of his control wears thin, dangerously close to snapping.
“Yes, yes- just for you, Frank, fuck- haah , haah , drank- drank so much water during the show, after it, didn’t go before bed-” He pants, cutting himself off as another leak escapes him, smaller this time, but a sign of what’s soon to come.
Frank relishes in the wetness, no matter how miniscule. He knows he’s in for much more, very soon. “You didn’t?”
Gerard shakes his head, mouthing the word ‘no’, but no sound comes out.
“ Really now? Sounds to me like you knew this would happen, like you wanted it to happen.”
Gerard flinches at the accusation, eyes widening. “I- no, I- I didn’t- I didn’t know it would happen, I swear!” despite his defensiveness, their dick twitches nonetheless.
“That only covers the first bit of what I said, baby . So you didn’t know it would happen, but you wanted it to?”
Gerard cries out, too far gone to be trying to defend himself like this. “I- not, aaah , not before I knew you liked it too…” he admits.
“And now that you know I do?”
Gerard pants, from a mix of arousal and sheer desperation to piss- Frank had subconsciously been digging his thumbs in harder and harder as they’ve been talking. “Just- just wish I’d known sooner-”
“Me too, fuck, me too, Gee- woulda let you piss all over me anytime, woulda made you piss yourself for me sooner.”
Gerard buries his face in Frank’s neck, warm breath ghosting over equally warm flesh, too overwhelmed to let his face be seen. His hips jerk wildly, concerningly hard against Frank’s stomach still. “Frankie- Frankie -!” He moans wantonly, clearly reaching his limit.
Frank shushes him, turning to kiss the side of Gerard’s head comfortingly. “I know buddy, I know- c’mon, just let go for me, I know you need to.”
Gerard sobs. “I can’t, Frank, I can’t-”
“Well that fuckin sucks, cause you’re gonna. Even if I have to force it, you’re gonna wet yourself in my lap and you’re gonna fuckin’ like it.” He emphasizes his point with a violent thrust of his hips, and equally violent twin jabs into Gerard’s abused bladder.
That seems to do the trick, as Gerard lurches forward suddenly, one final leak spilling from his cock- the longest one yet, spilling past Gerard’s shorts and pooling in the seat of Frank’s lap.
“I can’t- Frankie, Frankie oh my god, I can’t hold it anymore, I’m gonna- fuck, fuck! I can’t fuckin stop, ohh my god, Frank- I’m- I’m pissing, Frankie, fuck-!” A full body sob wracks through him as his body, strung tight and tense, finally relaxes. He melts into Frank, moaning and sighing in relief, right next to his ear.
The leak turns into a full-on stream, spraying full force out of their dick, a loud hissing sound following.
The stream spills down their trembling thighs- golden and filthy and perfect , fully soaking Frank’s entire front- warm and wet and incredible on his own dick. It seeps into Frank’s shirt first, as it’s in direct contact with Gerard’s cock. Piss saturates his thighs beneath Gerard’s and forms a puddle beneath them when the fabric of their clothes can’t absorb any more of the urine. The pool grows impossibly larger and larger until the stream tragically trickles off.
If life were perfect, it would last forever- Gerard would just infinitely piss himself on top of Frank.
Despite the unfortunate reality, it’s still fucking perfect , everything Frank dreamed of and so much more, impossibly hot and impossibly soaked .
He’s painfully hard- he’s sure if he whipped his dick out right now, it’d be turning purple from how long he’s been this hard, erection not dying down even the slightest bit this whole time.
Probably not a medical anomaly, Gerard just has that effect on him.
Gerard is shaking, from arousal and humiliation and exertion, both of them panting heavily- a little embarrassing that Frank is panting just as hard as them, considering the fact he just pushed their body to its limits, and all he did was sit there and torture them.
He finds the ability to speak, having been stunned into silence- that and the fact he wanted to drink up every delicious sound Gerard made as he wet himself.
“Holy fuck.” he manages.
Gerard laughs breathlessly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Jesus christ. Feel better now that you’re all empty?”
Gerard nods, then quickly corrects himself. “Yes- yes, feels so much better..thank you, Frankie.. really, ah , needed that..” He pries himself from the crook of Frank’s neck and finally looks at him, and Frank swears he falls in love all over again.
He looks like an angel - face flushed, eyes once again lidded with relief, tear stains on their cheeks- Frank curses himself for not getting to see them cry. He’ll just have to try harder next time.
Frank beams at Gerard, finally close enough to actually ruffle his hair this time. “I’m so glad, buddy. Don’t have to thank me, you know I loved it too.”
Gerard offers a sweet smile, clinging a little closer to Frank. He picks his earlier grinding back up, twitching in his shorts. “Really, Frankie… so good to me, so nice about this whole thing…” He mutters, trailing off.
Frank clocks the unspoken caveat in their words, pointing it out for them. “...But?” He pries.
Gerard’s face shifts to a darker red, surprised at how easily Frank caught onto what he thought they were being subtle about. “...But… I, ah , kinda- y’know , wish you’d be… meaner about it…?” He admits, somehow bashful, despite fully pissing themself in Frank’s lap merely minutes earlier.
Oh?
Oh, Frank can be mean. He loves being mean, especially now that he’s seen the way it makes Gerard squirm.
“Oh, really now? Want mean Frankie?” He teases, leaning impossibly closer. “ Wanna be punished ?”
Gerard’s eyes go wide, nodding desperately. “Please- please, ahh , been- been so bad , Frank, gotta… gotta put me in my place…” he begs, expression glazing over.
Okay. Yeah. Gerard is absolutely gonna be the death of him. Two can play at that game.
“You’re right, Gee. You have been bad- been terrible, even. Fuckin disgusting , can’t even hold your piss like a normal adult. Couldn’t hold it long enough to sit in my lap, bet you wouldn’t even be able to hold it while I fuck you, you’d just piss all over yourself like the dumb slut you are. A dumb fuckin piss slut.”
Frank is almost shocked at his own words as they leave him, never once considering speaking to Gerard this way- but damn, he should’ve. It’s exhilarating, and Gerard clearly loves it, hips moving faster.
“I-I didn’t- ‘s not my fault , Frankie, I couldn’t-” He tries, but Frank just rolls his eyes.
“I don’t care whose fault it is, Gee. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you loved it. You’re a pathetic mutt who gets off on wetting themself, a sick freak that can’t function well enough to not piss the bed.”
“Frankie-” Gerard whines, rolling his hips harder despite it all.
“Shut it.” Frank snaps. “Up.” He pats Gerard’s thigh gently- an odd juxtaposition to his overly cruel words- urging them to move off his lap.
Gerard just stares, frozen in something akin to fear.
Frank growls. “Are you fucking stupid? I said get up. Move .”
Snapped out of his trance, Gerard obeys instantly, scrambling out of Frank’s lap and onto their knees in front of him.
“Hands and knees. Face the mess you made.”
Gerard whines, but follows the command nonetheless, turning to face the wet patch on the bed below him, embarrassed when he’s met with the huge puddle of his making.
Frank comes up behind him, grabbing a fistful of their hair and yanking harshly, making Gerard cry out. The cry quickly turns into a needy whimper.
He adjusts his grip, impossibly tight, and shoves Gerard’s down, pushing his face into the puddle.
Gerard whines louder, nostrils flaring- only serving to further permeate each deep inhale with the scent of his own piss, so close he can almost taste it. He tries to back up even a little bit, make some space between him and the bed, but Frank doesn’t allow it, shoving his head down even harder into the soaked sheets. They turn their head so they can still breathe, resulting in their cheek being pressed into the cold dampness.
“If you’re gonna act like a stupid fucking dog , I’m gonna treat you like one. Shove your face in your mess ‘til you know better. But I know you’re a pervert , this probably just turns you on too.”
Gerard moans obscenely loud, nodding as well as they can in their predicament. Their hips are pistoning forward in the air, grinding against nothing, the only friction they’re rewarded with coming from rubbing against the front of their tight shorts.
Frank laughs bitterly at him, at his pathetic attempts at getting pleasure in their position.
“ Jesus , you’re insatiable. Really thought this would work, too. Thought I could house train you like this, forcing you to be all up in your own piss. Shoulda known you’d love that too. Wonder how far you’d go for me, huh? Bet if I asked, you’d wrap your mouth around the sheets and suck your piss out of them . I should make you do that, maybe then you’d learn your lesson-”
Frank’s rambling is cut short, as Gerard lets out the loudest moan they have all night, damn near a scream.
Their whole body goes rigid, eyes rolling back into their head and their mouth falling open. The moan breaks off into several smaller ones, growing in duration each time. Their hands curl into the sheets, anchoring them to reality as their orgasm wracks through them- coming in their shorts, completely untouched, a mantra of Frank’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.
They twitch violently - like they’re being electrocuted, like there’s a live wire down their spine and Frank pushed and prodded just so and made it shock them, waves of unimaginable pleasure, white-hot and coursing through every extremity- mostly their dick.
They can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but shiver through the sensation, tears welling up in their eyes from how overwhelming it all is. At Frank’s complete mercy, held in his grasp and so, so willing to do anything for him, give it all up, worship him- his mind unable to think anything but Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. It’s all he wants.
Maybe it’s all he needs, too.
Their cock twitches wildly as it spills into the front of his shorts, ruining them even further, adding to the mess - hot, sticky, and utterly humiliating . The thought alone makes them wish they could get hard again right away. Frank could definitely coax a second orgasm in a row out of him, make him scream and thrash through the overstimulation, make him come dry -
He shudders. Jesus, he’s so fucked. Unequivocally fucked.
Gerard’s dick throbs one final time as the last of his release spurts out, an end to the orgasm that seemed to last much longer than any of his countless others have.
With that, they collapse into the bed, body entirely spent and overworked, every nerve ending on fire with how fucking insane that was.
Frank, who had been watching silently, loosens his grip on their hair just enough to make the touch a sweet one. He runs his fingers through the sweaty strands, scratching their scalp soothingly, petting them.
“ Fuck , baby. That felt good, huh?” he sighs out, like he hadn’t taken a breath that whole time.
Gerard nods weakly, making a soft sound of affirmation into the mattress.
Frank slows his hand, grabbing a handful of Gerard’s hair, but not pulling.
“I can tell! Fuck, you looked so fuckin good laying there, shaking, just fuckin takin it . Didn’t even have to touch you, did I? Came just from hearing me talk?” he coos- but his tone is far from sweet, something sinister lurking beneath it.
Gerard swallows nervously, nodding again, more hesitant this time.
Frank’s fistful finally turns into a painful grip, pulling hard, hard enough to force Gerard’s head back, making him look Frank in the eyes.
“Slut.” he growls.
Gerard keens, eyes going wide and unfocused, but remaining on Frank’s face.
Frank pulls harder, uncaring when he feels himself yanking a few strands of hair out.
“Say it,” He hisses. “Say you’re a stupid fuckin’ slut that came in their pants, cause you can’t fucking control yourself.”
Gerard’s mouth falls open, unable to keep their pitiful noises hushed. “I’m- ‘m a-a stupid slut, aah, aah , came in my pants cause I-I can’t control myself…”
Frank grins, but it’s far from comforting- all sharp teeth and cruel intentions.
“That’s right, Gee. Can’t hold your piss, can’t hold your cum. Fuckin useless . Nothing more than a brainless whore, just chasing the tiniest bit of pleasure you can get. You’d let anyone with a pulse fuck you.”
Gerard shakes his head rapidly at that. “No- not, not anyone, just you- just you, Frankie-”
Frank laughs, a bitter sound. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”
Gerard moans brokenly, nodding his head so quick that Frank’s scared he’s gonna break something.
Frank just continues to smile at him, letting the possibility linger in the air, getting Gerard’s hopes up.
He definitely wants to. God, he wants to fuck Gerard more than anything right now- more than he needs to breathe. The thought of Gerard’s tight hole squeezing around him as he splits them open, the ultimate form of closeness- the closest he can get to crawling into Gerard’s skin- makes his head spin. But he can’t. He has to teach them a lesson in restraint. It’s about the principle, he tells himself. Something like that.
Gerard stares back, hopeful, just waiting for Frank to say the word-
Then, he releases their hair, letting their head fall back to the mattress unceremoniously.
“Well, too fuckin bad. You don’t deserve it. Haven’t earned my dick. You came once without permission, what makes you think I’m gonna let it happen again? Reward you for being bad?”
Frank rises from the bed, walking around and standing in front of Gerard, who scrambles to a kneeling position, eyes wild and frantic- scared.
“But- but I wanna, wanna get you off, Frankie, please! Please, please let me-”
He reaches for the tent in Frank’s pants as he rambles, desperate to just touch him, feel him-
And Frank instantly smacks their hand away, staring in faux disgust (even for the sake of the scene, he can’t act like he doesn’t utterly adore Gerard).
They pull back, clutching their hand to their chest like a wounded animal, a deer in headlights. Frank scoffs at him.
“Like I said, you haven’t earned it. Don’t get the fuckin privilege of touching me.”
Gerard whimpers, but doesn’t argue- they know better, resolving to slouch back slightly in defeat.
“I’m gonna touch myself.” Frank announces breathily, reaching into his pants and freeing his cock from his boxers, gasping at the bite of the cold air, and the relief of finally being free of his polyester prison, the relief of finally getting his hand on his bare cock.
Gerard drools at the sight of Frank’s dick- long, hard, dripping, and perfect. Every part of him screams to lean in and taste the precome beading at the tip, just a little taste- but they won’t. They can’t.
“I’m gonna touch myself,” he repeats shakily as he begins to stroke himself base to tip, languid, leisurely strokes. “And you’re gonna watch. Not gonna touch me, not gonna touch yourself.”
Gerard tosses his head back- at Frank’s words, at the sight of his flushed dick disappearing and reappearing under his hand, slick sounds filling the room as he shamelessly jerks himself off.
“If you even try to touch me, I’m leaving.” His voice is low, stern, threatening.
He doesn’t mean it. He knows he doesn’t, Gerard knows he doesn’t, but it rips a strangled noise from their throat nonetheless.
They make a pathetic sound, tears from earlier threatening to spill. He isn’t actually upset, he just wants to touch, touch, touch . Feel Frank in his grasp, twitching and delightful in their hand, to be the one who makes Frank feel good.
It’s so frustrating. He doesn’t care that he can’t touch himself, he just wants to touch Frank and it’s driving him crazy that he can’t. Why can’t he just behave , be good ?
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Frank is leaning down, swiping their tears away with his thumb. His other hand doesn’t leave his dick- in fact, he strokes a little faster at the sight of Gerard’s tears.
“Hey, hey- don’t cry, buddy,” he sighs, despite clearly wanting to see them cry. “‘S okay. Next time, yea?” He coos, promises. So gentle. Too soft, too adoring for what they’re doing.
It makes Gerard’s chest tight, a slurry of emotions he’s not equipped to unpack right now. He sniffles, nods.
Next time .
Frank smiles- his genuine, stupid grin, giving them a pat on the cheek before pulling away and straightening out, slipping back into his role seamlessly.
The second the touch is gone, Gerard misses it. God.
Frank’s breathing picks up, clearly not due to last much longer. His hand glides rapidly, expertly over his cock, thumbing at the pretty, red tip, smearing the precome dripping out obscenely, using it to make things slicker , wetter -
He freezes up, going still, and lets out a low grown, almost animalistic.
Gerard thinks he’s gonna come, prepares himself for it- eyes trained on Frank’s cock and waiting for his pearly white release-
But nothing comes.
Frank squeezes his dick once, twice, then pulls his hand away entirely, sighing.
“Fuck.” He grunts, running fingers through his hair- the ones coated in his precome from stroking himself to near-completion merely seconds earlier. “Gotta piss.”
Oh.
Oh.
That’s what this is, why he stopped.
Gerard half expects Frank to walk away and relieve himself in the proper receptacle, but he stands in place, just looking at them.
They must do a piss-poor job of hiding the way they light up at the statement- nothing more than that, a declaration- but they’re very visibly intrigued at what they think he intends by saying it, at what they hope he wants, because Frank raises an incredulous eyebrow, laughing at him.
“What, you want me to piss on you ?”
He says it like the idea is so far-fetched, like Gerard hadn’t just done practically the same thing to him- not entirely the same, but still.
Shame burns Gerard’s face red, like they hadn’t already been blushing for god-knows how long. He nods, hesitant, like Frank’s gonna say no.
Frank gives his own little noise, low in his throat and pleased. He brings the hand, previously carding through his own hair, down to Gerard’s head, petting him.
It makes Gerard’s stomach flip and heart flutter, the sickly-sweet and degrading feeling that settles in his core.
“Knew it. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, man. Got the most pathetic poker face around.”
Frank’s tone is lighthearted enough, but the usage of the word ‘pathetic’ makes them hot all over, truly a lost cause.
Frank seems to catch onto this, laughing at his expense once more.
“Such a needy thing. Eager slut. You want me to piss all over your face? Mark you ?”
That makes Gerard’s hips jerk, his spent cock finally able to twitch in interest again. He nods frantically, as if Frank can’t see how bad he needs it.
Frank hums, amused. “You would. You’re fuckin sick.”
Gerard just whines because, yeah, there’s no denying that.
Frank continues. “Want me to just do it? Think you deserve it?”
They nod faster, pleading.
“What a pity. I would just give it to you cause you want it, but you haven’t exactly been on your best behavior, have you?”
Gerard bites his lip. No, he really hasn’t.
“Good sluts get what they want, get rewarded for being good . Dirty, untrained sluts beg for it. So beg me, Gee. Beg me to piss on your face.”
Before they can even think of what to say, they’re speaking, the words falling from their tongue without a second, or even first thought.
“Please- oh fuck , Frankie, please. Please piss on me, on my face. Mark me, claim me . I’m yours, Frank, ‘m yours-! Use me, haaah , use me, make me filthy . You’re all I want, Frankie, all I need , please. Would do anything for you, aaah , let you use me however you want- drink your piss, swallow it all down and beg for more, take everything you give me. Need it so fuckin’ bad, Frank. Feel like ‘m gonna die if you don’t- c’mon, please ! I’m a- ‘m a filthy, untrained slut, please, treat me like I deserve. Ruin me. Ruin me for everyone else , make me yours , your slut, your property -”
Frank hisses like he’s been burned, and for a moment, Gerard is terrified that they went too far, said too much- but when he looks back up at Frank, they see his dick bobbing, drooling at their words.
“Holy fuck , Gee. Perfect . That was perfect, you’re fuckin perfect- shit .”
All of Gerard’s worry is gone in a second, disintegrated the second they hear Frank’s approval. His words play on loop in their head- perfect, perfect, perfect .
“Such a filthy mouth. Fitting for a dirty slut of your caliber. Guess I gotta do it now, huh? Since you need it that bad ? Since you’ll die if I don’t piss on you?”
Gerard’s eyes roll back. Yes, yes yes .
“Perfect, just like that. Keep your eyes closed, babe. Mouth open.” Frank instructs.
They shut their eyes tight, mouth falling open instantly, obediently.
They hear Frank shuffle just a tad bit closer, and hold his cock right up to their face- he can’t see it, of course, but he can feel the heat radiating off of it, smell the musk of sex and sweat and a hint of his own piss.
Frank’s breathing heavier now, possibly straining to let go- quite a feat to piss when hard, but if he’s anything, it’s determined. Or stubborn. One of those.
The struggle doesn’t last long, as Gerard feels the first bits of the stream hit his face- his nose, his cheeks, his chin, all getting soaked and sprayed. The smell is so much stronger when it’s this close, the taste even stronger than he could’ve ever thought- bitter and disgusting and fucking delectable .
They let their eyes fall open, and when they do, it doesn’t matter that stray drops of piss are splashing into them, making them burn, because Frank is pissing on him- head tilted back, lips parted, letting little sighs of relief escape, eyes fluttering, and fuck-
Frank's cock is right in front of him, hot, golden piss spraying from the tip and landing on his face, in his eyes, in his mouth. He swallows every mouthful he catches down greedily, like he hasn’t drunk in days, like Frank’s piss is the watering hole in a desert.
Frank’s eyes flutter open, catching Gerard’s gaze. He furrows his eyebrows- not upset, amused.
“Thought I told you to keep em closed.” he says, referring to Gerard’s eyes.
“Can’t,” they gurgle, mouth still eagerly catching the stream. “Wanna- need’t watch.”
Frank’s dick twitches, redirecting the stream for a split second. “Fuck- don’t wanna fuckin, mmmh , blind you or some shit, Gee.”
“Aim for my mouth?” They offer instantly, letting it hang open again.
Frank groans. “Jesus.” he shudders, aiming down, directly into Gerard’s open mouth.
They do their best to make for a good urinal, letting the liquid pool on his tongue, under it, swallowing it down when it threatens to overflow- but they get sloppy quick, the piss coming faster than they can keep up with, spilling out the corners of their mouth and dripping down their chin. Still, they swallow as much as they can, in utter bliss to be used like this.
“Fuckin hell, look at you, so eager. Just- fuck, just taking it all, fuckin drinkin everything I give you.”
Gerard doesn’t respond- can’t respond, mouth preoccupied, so they just blink rapidly at him, hoping the message gets across.
“Look so pretty like this, Gee.” He sighs. “Always look pretty, so fuckin gorgeous- but especially now, like you’re fuckin made for this. Made to swallow all my piss, made to be used by me. Just me. Mine .”
Gerard squirms, fully hard again, dick twitching in the confines of their shorts. Beautiful. Mine .
“You like that? Like being my pretty girl, Gee?”
Gerard’s eyes fully roll back this time, hips moving incessantly, fruitlessly. Yes, yes, yes- Frank’s pretty girl. All his.
Frank sighs again as his stream finally dies down, Gerard savoring the last few drops like they’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
They’re almost disappointed it’s over, but then Frank’s jerking himself off again and they can’t be upset about that.
He doesn’t move back to where he was before, perfectly happy to be stroking his dick up-close and personal. He starts to fuck his fist as he drags it along his cock, the tip bumping Gerard’s lips and nose.
God, he’d do anything to taste it, lick it clean.
“Such a pretty girl. So beautiful. Wanna fuck your pretty cunt. Bet it’s so fuckin tight- even for a slut, just, mmfh , know you’re tight. You got a tight pussy, Gee ?”
Gerard could come just from hearing Frank talk like that- hell , he already did earlier. But this is different- the words he’s saying now are making Gerard’s stomach turn like they’re on a ride at the fair, makes them dizzy and too hot and too cold all over, makes them ache.
“ Yes ,” they moan. “Yes, yes, Frankie, aah, aaah , so tight. Gotta stretch myself so much to take my toys, would haf’ta stretch so much to take you-”
Frank groans, moving faster, faster. “Fuck, gonna be thinkin ‘bout you fuckin your slutty hole with big fuckin toys forever now.”
He’s getting visibly close now, hips and cock twitching, dick drooling and drooling precome, making everything so fucking wet. If Gerard had a pussy, he’d be so fucking wet right now .
“Bet you’d- ohh, fuck, bet you’d let me fuck you raw, no stretching. Just split you open, haah … your body would adapt, learn to take me, learn to open up, mmngh, just for me. Fuck, fuck fuck-”
Gerard could’ve guessed Frank was a talker, practically talking himself to orgasm, but they made a point to try and not fantasize sexually about his best friend- key word try. They gave up pretty fast, leading to many, many shameful, passionate, desperate jerkoff sessions, fueled by the thought of what Frank sounded like when he came.
It doesn’t matter now, and it clearly didn’t then, because now they have the real thing- Frank stroking and squeezing himself, right in front of them, moaning and whining and rattling off nonsense, the only intelligible words being Gee, pretty girl, and mine.
“Gonna- fuck, oh god, nngh, gonna come, Gee- gonna come on your face, all over your pretty fuckin face. Make you mine- ahh, ahh, are you? You mine, Gee?”
Yes, he wants to shout. “Yes, fuck, yes, ‘m yours Frankie, all yours, all fuckin yours, c’mon- come on my face, please , Frank, mark me, claim me -”
Frank cries out, loudly- a sound Gerard would typically tease him for, but right now, it’s the single most erotic, arousing thing he’s ever fucking heard. Every fantasy, every dream he’s had about how Frank sounds when he comes, none of it could ever compare, even come close to this.
He strokes his cock once, twice, three more times, before he’s coming- spilling hot and heavy , pearly ropes of his release landing perfectly across Gerard’s face.
He shivers as he strokes himself through his orgasm, coaxing more whiny and perfect noises, working himself to the edge of overstimulation.
Through it all, not once does he close his eyes, or look away, or even blink- keeping direct eye contact with Gerard, only looking at Gerard, even as his face screws up in pleasure, his eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open into breathless gasps and moans.
For a moment, Gerard genuinely believes he’s died and gone to heaven, and he’ll get to watch Frankie coming on loop for all eternity-
But then his hand slows to a reluctant stop, before falling to his side, and Gerard is reminded that this is real, this is happening, this just happened- the still-warm semen on his face serving as the real reminder.
He pants heavily, catching his breath, finally letting his eyes shut for just a moment as he recenters himself.
He takes a deep breath, opening them again and tucking his softening dick back into his pants, only grimacing slightly at how clammy they’ve become.
He looks back to Gerard, preparing to say something else entirely, but pauses when he sees their flushed face, and how fast their chest and shoulders rise and fall, and of course, that leads to him looking down to Gerard’s lap.
“Fuck, you’re hard again ?” he laughs, exasperated.
Gerard flushes a deeper red, squeezing their thighs together in an attempt to hide what Frank’s already noticed. “Not- ah , not my fault, you should try not being so fuckin hot.” They whine, pouting.
“Don’t count on it.” He flashes Gerard a grin, then lets the expression go lazy, sly. “You already got to come once. So greedy .”
Gerard squirms because yes, yes- they’re so fucking greedy, any word Frank could begin to apply.
“C’mon then. Off the bed. On your knees.”
Gerard is almost shocked at the display of mercy, having long since resigned themself to waiting for it to go down, or at least ‘til Frank wasn’t watching them to do something about it. But they won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frank wants him to come again.
He slides off the bed, positioning himself in front of Frank exactly how he’d asked- on their knees, looking up at him, with a piss-soaked, cum-streaked face.
“Good, so you can follow simple instructions.”
Gerard’s face heats at that, at the implication they’re stupid. For Frank, they’d be anything.
Frank toes their thighs apart. “Spread ‘em, nice ‘n wide for me.”
They obey, sliding their legs open and putting their hard dick on full display for Frank- open, eager.
He slots a leg between their parted thighs, right up against his dick.
“Gonna hump my leg ‘til you come in your shorts again, like a dog .” he pants, just as aroused by the idea as Gerard.
They gasp at the sudden contact, Frank’s leg warm and solid between his legs. He lets his head fall to his chest for just a moment, catching their breath, trying to stay still.
Gerard looks back up at Frank, arms hovering awkwardly at their sides- clearly wanting to touch him, but terrified of the consequences.
Frank’s expression softens for just a moment. “You can touch me now, Gee. Not gonna leave. Wasn’t gonna.”
Gerard wraps their arms around his leg in an instant, pressing their face to his thigh and sighing contently at the contact, having been starved of it for so long.
“I know. I know, thank you..”
He whispers into the fabric of Frank’s pants, hoping their desperation can be lost along the way if they’re quiet enough.
Now that they’re touching him, they can’t imagine how they ever survived without it, like every moment spent not touching him was an utter waste and surely a form of self inflicted torture, a somehow more perverse sort of self-flagellation.
They want to thank him for everything- for the way their chest rises and falls, like it’s Frank’s call if they get to breathe or not, if they get to survive. He wishes it was. He’d give up every last bit of his autonomy to Frank in a heartbeat.
Frank flexes his lex against Gerard’s cock, a reminder of what they’re meant to be doing. They snap out of their codependent fantasy. Right, they were given an order- a merciful means to an end.
They roll their hips against his shin, trying to take it slow at first, but the friction is just so delicious, just what they need. Within seconds, they’re humping him fast, panting like a dog and hiding their face- mouth fallen open, surely drooling on Frank’s leg.
Through the layers of clothes, it’s both not enough, and exactly what they need. Embarrassingly close, embarrassingly fast. This time, it’s not a surprise, not a secret they’re gonna come.
“Frankie, Frankieee ..” They whine, muffled by Frank’s pants.
“Yeah, baby?”
He shudders, thrusts growing faster, shorter, sloppier. “Close- getting close, gonna, can I-?”
Frank presses his leg impossibly closer, giving Gerard exactly the extra friction they need to finish, just from humping his leg for a few minutes at most.
“Good. Good dog , Gee, ‘course you can. C’mon. C’mon, there you go. Come on my leg, just like that, fuck-”
Gerard’s not sure what it is this time that sets them off- being called a good dog , Frank’s encouragement, the incredible feeling of his dick sliding against Frank’s leg- more likely a combination of all those things, rather than a singular happening. What matters, is that he’s fucking done for.
His back arches, clawing at Frank’s leg, clinging onto him like he’ll slip away if he doesn’t.
For a second time that night, a rush of pleasure courses through him, making their head spin and mind go blank, their whole body flexing and unflexing as they spill into their shorts again, hot and humiliating, smearing wetness across the leg of Frank’s pants.
The grossness of it all- the dried piss and come on the inside of their shorts makes it all that much more intense. They really are a filthy, brainless slut.
The pleasure shakes him to his core, so intense that he truly believes this is where he belongs- on his knees for Frank, covered in his and Frank’s piss and come, his only form of relief being rubbing himself pathetically on Frank’s leg.
He’d be happy with that. Content with his entire being belonging to Frank. In this moment, that’s all that matters.
They’re the only two people in the world, exchanging fluids and depravity in this shitty hotel room, dancing around ways to express how deeply and entirely they need each other. Nothing else matters. They’re all they have, all they need.
And in this moment, Gerard realizes that he doesn’t just love Frank. He’s in love with him.
It hits him like a sack of bricks, far too much, far too intense combined with every other thing he’s feeling, every sensation amplified to ten- his skin crawling, every hair standing up-
And he starts to cry. Sobbing, this time.
They don’t know what to say, can’t say anything, so they just cling tighter, burying their face further and letting their drool and tears soak into Frank’s already ruined pants as they ride out the aftershocks of their orgasm.
When his movement ceases, and his panting stops, and the sounds he’s making are unmistakably sobbing, he just sniffles and tries to fight through the overwhelming moment of clarity as quietly and subtly as he can.
Obviously, because god must have it out for him- or more likely, because Frank just knows him like that, he notices.
Gently, ever so gently, he untangles their arms from around his leg, holding them out. Gerard is confused, until Frank drops to his level, placing their arms around his shoulders instead, his own wrapping around Gerard and rubbing his back soothingly. Gerard grips him tight, Frank holds him tighter.
The tenderness of it all only makes him cry harder, a strangled sob wrenching itself from his throat. He presses his forehead into Frank’s shoulder.
“‘M sorry, ‘M sorry- don’t- don’t know why ‘m crying…” they mumble, shaky and unsure, because of course they know.
Frank sighs against him, hugging him tighter, holding him closer. “That’s not true, Gee. We both know it’s not. But ‘s okay. Don’t have to tell me now. Not ‘til you’re ready.”
They stay like that for a while, a tangle of limbs and soft words of encouragement and praise, until Gerard has stopped trembling, until their hyperventilating de-escelates to a regular, albeit shaky speed of breathing.
He never wants to let go. Wants to stay this close forever, in a mutual understanding that nobody else needs to see, needs to understand, because it’s just for them, and they don’t even understand.
As bad as he wants it, they can’t stay like this forever. He has to move, because his clothes are sticky and sweaty and quite honestly disgusting, and Frank probably feels the same.
So he reluctantly peels himself from Frank’s grasp, looking up at him hesitantly, aware that he must look a fucking mess.
Frank doesn’t seem to mind. He looks at them like they’re the most ethereal thing he’s ever seen.
“You’re a terrible liar, Gee.” Frank says with a smile.
Gerard laughs- not forced, not sad, but genuine. Frank somehow always drags him from his lowest of lows right back to where he needs to be, without even trying. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Frank makes a face. “You don’t gotta apologize, man. It’s okay. You know it is.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m s-” He catches himself this time, lips curling into a smile when he sees the way Frank squints at him, unable to hold back a giggle.
Frank can’t keep his composure either, quickly joining in on their laughter. “Idiot.” he says, grinning.
Gerard hums. “Yeah. Your idiot.”
The words come out before he can stop them, meant to be an inside thought, and he nearly apologizes again- but Frank just ruffles his hair, looking at him with the most adoration they’ve ever felt directed towards them, by anyone.
“Damn straight. All mine .”
And suddenly, everything is okay again. It doesn’t matter if he’s god’s favorite, because he’s Frank’s.
Frank continues to stare at him, then his face reddens, a thought clearly popping into his head. He doesn’t say it, though, glancing away- somehow nervous, after everything they’ve asked each other, everything they’ve done tonight.
Gerard tilts their head. “I know that face. What’s on your mind, Frank?”
Frank looks back, hesitant. “I- okay. Okay, this might be really fucked up, ‘specially ‘cause you clearly just went through some shit-”
Gerard cuts him off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m okay now. Tell me?”
Frank pauses- surprised, but not further questioning the switchup.
“Oh- okay. Well, in that case- can I take a picture of you like this?”
Gerard’s mouth falls open. Holy shit.
“Won’t- won’t show anyone. Just for me” he reassures. “You just- y’look so fuckin ruined. Wanna immortalize it .”
Somehow, through sheer willpower, Gerard’s dick twitches weakly at that. “Yes.” he answers without even considering it. “Yes, Frankie, please-”
They don’t need to beg, don’t even need to ask because they know Frank wants it- he asked- but they want to.
It does the trick just as well, as Frank swiftly stands up, fumbling around for his phone and holding it up in front of Gerard, framing them perfectly.
They’re suddenly self conscious. “Should I- how should I-?”
Frank shakes his head. “Nothing. Perfect how you are. Just like that. Look up at me? Yeah. Yeah, fuck. Perfect.”
He takes far more than one picture, but Gerard won’t complain. It makes him feel fuzzy, knowing Frank wants to look back on this, remember it forever, immortalize it.
Frank lowers his phone, done photographing the man kneeling in front of him, and stares at his screen like he wants to devour what’s on the other side. “Holy shit.” he says, breathless.
Now Gerard’s curious.
“Fuck, fuck. Wish I could make this my lockscreen, my wallpaper, my profile picture on everything ever, my fuckin signature- holy shit.”
Gerard raises his eyebrows. He can’t possibly look that good. He reaches up, pulling on Frank’s sleeve.
Frank turns his attention back to them, setting his phone down. “Oh- sorry, Gee. Got carried away. You okay?”
Gerard nods. “Yeah, ‘m fine, Frankie, but you gotta let me see too. Can’t just say all that and not show me.” He complains, voice bordering on whiny.
Frank blinks down at him, like he wasn’t expecting it. “Oh. Oh! Yeah, yeah I’ll show you, sorry-”
He picks his phone back up and hands it to Gerard, already open to the series of pictures. “You can swipe through if you want, they’re all the same, though. Just wanted more than one.” he admits, sheepish.
Gerard blinks a few times, adjusting to Frank’s stupidly bright screen. When he does adjust, he looks at the picture and-
Holy shit.
It’s him, obviously, like any of the hundreds of pictures Frank’s taken of him- but so, so entirely different from them. The only similarity is that he’s the subject matter.
Him. On his knees, sweat-slick hair sticking both to his face, and every direction but his face. His eyes- bloodshot from crying, wide and pleading, pupils blown like he’s on E. His cheeks are wet, from tears and Frank’s piss, glistening in the light emanating from the lamp on the table. His pouty lips are parted, puffy and swollen from being bitten. More importantly, and most remarkably, there’s a long streak of Frank’s come painted across his face. He’s practically glowing, radiating with the divine light of his afterglow.
Okay. Yeah. He can see why Frank said all that. He kinda wishes he could make it his profile picture too.
That makes another cocktail of confusing emotions stir.
One one hand, he wants this to stay between him and Frank- not just the picture, not just tonight, all of it. Hidden from the rest of the world, theirs and only theirs. Something sacred, something for just the two of them to be blessed by, worshipping only one another, each other’s sole holy place.
On the other hand, the idea of Frank showing him off- parading Gerard around as his slut, his property, but letting others touch, like show and tell, passing him around- makes him shiver, makes his spent cock stir.
He hands Frank’s phone back to him slowly, choosing his next words carefully.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he starts, soft and barely there.
He realizes that the statement lacks vital context, but waits on Frank to ask for clarification before saying anything else.
And ask, he does. “Hmm? Wouldn’t mind what, Gee?”
“Wouldn’t mind if,” He licks his lips, suddenly dry. “If you showed that picture to people. ‘S hot. Makes me feel like a slut.”
Frank’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” they say, and it’s nearly a whisper. “Just- just the guys, though. For now.”
Frank smiles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to their forehead. “I can do that. Just let me know if you change your mind, ‘kay?”
Gerard nods. Then, “You don’t- you don’t care? ‘S not weird?”
Frank shrugs. “Why should I? You’re hot, we’re hot, what we did is hot. Why hide it?”
Huh. He’s right.
“‘Sides, I’ll make sure everyone knows it was me who did all that to you. Let ‘em know who you belong to at the end of the day.”
That makes Gerard whine. “ Frankie , gonna get hard again…”
Frank snorts. “You truly are insatiable.”
They share another silent smile, a wordless exchange.
Then, Frank nudges them with his foot. “C’mon, get up. Go rinse off. Just leave your clothes on the floor, can soak ‘em in the tub overnight. Good as new. I’ll change the sheets.”
Gerard takes a second to process all the things Frank just said- in his defense, his brain is fried.
He must take a second too long, because Frank reaches under his arms and hauls him up, steadying them on their feet and patting their ass. “You smell crazy. Go.”
"If I must…” they sigh wistfully.
Frank rolls his eyes. “Yes, you must.”
He starts stripping the bed, so Gerard scurries off to the bathroom, quickly shimmying out of their (very gross) clothes and showering for a second time that night- an odd feeling, when they barely shower twice in the span of a few days.
The rest of the night moves along slow, like molasses.
They step out of the shower, towelling off and stepping over their haphazard pile of clothes. There’s a fresh shirt and a pair of clean (to Gerard’s standards) shorts on the sink, Frank must’ve slipped in and left them there while he showered, too caught up in everything to notice.
They return to a freshly made bed, and Frank stark fucking naked- not that they’re complaining, admiring him and his tattoos as he grabs his own wet clothes and drops them on the bathroom tile next to Gerard’s, having also grabbed himself of clean (actually clean) pajamas on the way.
He showers quickly, not nearly as dirty as Gerard was, and changes into his spare set of clothes.
Gerard sits on the bathroom floor with him as they fill the tub, talking about nothing in particular for something close to an hour- about how much time it takes for the tub to fill up enough to dunk their clothes in.
Frank pours all the hotel soap he can into the water, because why not, and it’s the closest to clean the clothes are gonna get until they actually stop at a laundromat or something.
Gerard can’t stop smiling, because they’re together and they’re safe and nothing’s changed- only an unspoken, but mutual understanding of a shift in their dynamic, evolving past what they had been calling platonic, but was in reality far from casual.
They don’t have to talk about it. Gerard isn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.
With the clothes somewhat taken care of, and the soiled sheets balled up in the corner to be dealt with in the morning, they crawl back into bed, clinging closer than they ever have before.
Safe. Secure. Warm. Perfect.
Those few hours of sleep Frank manages to get are the best he’s slept in years.
The morning is about as rough as you’d expect, given how late they were up.
They try to sleep in as late as they can, but are rudely awoken by a knocking at the door, and Ray’s voice calling in, making sure they’re still alive.
Frank rolls out of bed begrudgingly, opening the door to both Mikey and Ray standing there, amused at his bedhead.
“You look like shit.” Mikey muses, eyebrow raised.
“Good morning to you too, Mikey.”
His gaze doesn’t falter, a silent question.
Frank just shrugs. “Rough night. Drank a lot.” A small lie, to keep up appearances.
Not that Mikey would particularly care Frank’s fucking his brother- preferably, he wouldn’t want to hear anything about it at all- and neither would Ray, he’s just not trying to explain it right now. And he’s still not quite sure what it is yet.
Mikey studies him a bit longer, then gives his own shrug. “Looks like it. Just don’t spend all day puking your guts up in the bus.”
And with that, he pushes past Frank, walking into the room. Ray follows suit, and Frank shuts the door.
Frank doesn’t mind the company, he just wishes he’d gotten more time to, y’know, clean up.
Gee sits up in bed, rubbing their eyes. “Frank? Wh- oh, hey Mikes, Ray.” He gives both a little wave, not actually making any moves to get out of bed.
They wave back, all smiles and casual greetings.
“You both look like shit.” Mikey comments, then narrows his eyes. “Were you drinking too?”
Gerard opens his mouth to reply, ready to add onto whatever lie Frank told him, but Frank interjects.
“‘Course not, he was babysitting me.” perfectly smooth, no room to argue. They could learn a thing or two about lying from him.
Mikey looks back at Gerard, questioning.
He just nods. “Yeah. He was a disaster, kept me up all night. Literally like I was babysitting.”
He and Frank share a look, a mutual respect for the other’s ability to deceive the all-knowing Mikeyway.
Mikey squints, studying the pair a moment longer, before dropping it. Gerard almost sighs in relief.
Frank starts to ramble about something random to Ray, who listens intently while he walks around the room, picking up their strewn belongings and packing them up in the bags they came in.
He has a habit of coddling his friends, looking after everyone and keeping them as organized as they can be. It’s admirable, really.
What’s less admirable is the way he waltzes into the bathroom to check for any stray items.
Gerard’s eyes widen, looking to Frank, who’s looking at him. Shit.
Ray swiftly walks back out to them, visibly confused. “Uhhh, Frank, Gee? What’s with the tub? Why are your uh, clothes in there? And why does it smell like-”
Frank cuts him off. “Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention. I totally pissed the bed when I got shitfaced. Shit was grody. I’m lucky Gee let me sleep in the same bed as them after that.” The lie falls easily from his tongue- a simple bending of the truth.
Ray makes a concerned face. “You gotta watch how much you’re drinking, dude. And where did you even get enough booze to blackout and piss yourself?”
Frank shrugs. “I have my ways.”
Ray squints at him. “Right… remind me to keep better track of you and your purchases.”
Frank grins. “I won’t.”
Ray can’t help but smile back. “Right. And uh, to your point, Gee is like, totally into piss, so I wouldn’t worry about that part too much.”
His tone contains no judgement, no secrecy, just a fact that in Ray’s eyes, could soothe Frank’s worries. He truly is an angel.
Frank looks at Gerard, who looks away, flustered. Interesting.
Mikey groans loudly. “Please stop talking about that. I’ve heard way more about his weird kinks than I ever wanted to in my life, ever.”
Ray snorts. “If anyone should be used to it, it’s you, man. You grew up with it.”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I don’t need to hear more than I already know, which is way too fucking much.”
Frank looks back to Gerard, amused. “So everyone knew but me?” he asks.
It’s subtle, the true weight of the question and the intentions that come with it only familiar to him and Gerard. They fight a shiver.
“Guess so. Y’know I overshare… jus’ never came up ‘tween us. God forbid.”
Frank gives him a knowing grin. “God forbid.”
He turns his attention back to Ray. “Sorry ‘bout the clothes. Kinda gross. I’ll deal with it ‘fore we leave.”
Ray nods. “All good. Let’s grab breakfast before they stop serving it, yeah? Then you can handle it.”
At the promise of food, Frank practically yanks Gerard out of bed and rushes out the door, dragging him along excitedly.
Gerard’s heart swells. Yeah, they love him.
The group stumbles into the rickety elevator, waiting the concerning levels of floors it takes to get to the lobby.
As they wait, Frank presses himself closer to Ray, slinging an arm around him and leaning in, speaking low enough for only Ray and Gerard to hear.
“Hey Ray, y’wanna see a picture I took?”